"Obviously. It was strange. I could hear her talking to me, and she was just...right here." I held my hand in front of me to show how near to me her stupid, flawless skin had been. "She was chilly...just icy. The way she spoke, that is. And she smelled like...she smelled like cigarettes and liquor...but then this perfume that sort of made the other smells more agreeable."
Max's jaw clenched. "What was she saying?"
I shook my head. "Nothing important."
"Tell me anyway."
"I don't even remember. I just know I was startled when you... I could have sworn the light had been on when I fell asleep."
"It's an old boathouse. It hasn't been used in years, I'm sure the wiring is just faulty."
I bent over onto my knees, mentally exhausted. I heard Max rise, and then felt him next to me. He pulled me by my shoulders so that he was holding me against his chest. He was warm, and I was cold.
"You're fine."
I wished I could believe him. The silence that came between us was comforting and still. He ran his hand over my hair for a few minutes, until we both finally drifted to sleep. It was the best rest I'd had since before I found out I was going to Manderley.
I awoke hours later to Max whispering my name and giving my shoulder a light squeeze.
"We should go," he said quietly. "If we're caught out of bed like this, we'll get in trouble."
The idea of getting in trouble had been appealing since I arrived. Getting expelled and having to go back home seemed like a win-win for me. But all of a sudden it didn't sound so good.
We walked out into the silent halls, and walked to the girls' dorm door. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. Somehow it wasn't awkward at all.
When we arrived at the door, I glanced at Max and smiled nervously.
"Thanks," I said. "For...you know, whatever."
He smiled back. "Don't worry about it. I hope you feel better."
"I do."
The moment changed, suddenly, as we both knew we were finished talking. He leaned in and put a hand on my neck, then kissed my cheek. I felt it turn hot.
I opened the door to go, and then spewed the question I hadn't even known I was going to ask.
"Do you think...she might have been there?"
His face turned to stone. "No, of course not. Just a dream."
We caught eyes. He looked very serious, and he looked like he was going to say something and then changed his mind. He held up his hand and said, "I'll see you later on."
I wished I hadn't asked. But it was too late.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE NIGHT OF THE HALLOWEEN BALL. FINALLY.
Becca had ordered her Marilyn Monroe dress online a month ago, and couldn't wait to wear it. Now finally, her hair was curled, the red lipstick on, the beauty mark in place, and the eyeliner had given her that sultry look. She looked in the mirror and seethed.
She was just bland, bland and more bland. Plain hair, plain skin, plain eyes, plain everything. She was boring to look at. Not like Dana, who looked like Cleopatra even though she'd been talked into going to the ball dressed as a witch.
Dana had asked Becca to help her get ready. So now her hair was straightened, her eyes were rimmed with dark liner and she was wearing the same red lipstick as Becca. But she looked too good. And Becca was torn between making her look good to show how she, Becca, could turn an ugly duckling into a swan, and making her look worse.
"Almost finished," Becca said, grabbing her eye shadow kit. Green. She filled the blush brush with it and powdered it onto Dana's face. She couldn't go all-out green, but just enough to take her pristine skin to a slightly sickly level.
"What are you doing? Is that green?"
"You are a witch don't forget."
Now, one more thing and Dana would be finished.
Becca drew a big spot on her nose and used other colors from her eye shadow kit to make it look as wartlike as she could.
"Okay, you're all set."
"Can I look?" Dana said, standing. It was hard not to laugh as she smiled, having no idea there was a big black dot on her face.
"Um, sure." She really hoped Dana didn't object. She still looked good, but hopefully with the green tinge and wart, she'd look at least a little less pretty than Becca.
But Dana just laughed when she looked in the mirror. "I look like a witch, that's for sure." Her smile ruined the ugliness.
"Come on, we have to go." Becca turned and marched out of the bathroom. She dropped her things off on her bed, and they were on their way.
Tonight, Becca was determined to make everyone sure that Max and she were in love. She knew exactly how.
When she met him in the dining hall, she smiled broadly.
"You look very handsome." Becca reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
Max smiled, too, and kissed her back. "You, too."
"Although it's kind of a vague costume. Who are you again, just anyone from the fifties?"
He looked down at his suit. "I guess."
"If you weren't wearing a fedora it would be impossible to tell."
He laughed and put an arm around her. "Let's go."
They were stopped and asked to place their vote for king and queen at the door. Becca voted for herself and Max. She leaned over to him and saw that he was voting for Cam and Blake.
"What are you doing? Vote for us!"
"You can't vote for yourself, that's stupid."
"Everyone is going to."
"No, I'm not voting for us." He laughed and dropped it in the box.
Her plan wouldn't work if they didn't win. She seethed quietly and dropped in her own ballot.
"Do you think we're going to win?" she asked happily a moment later, squeezing his arm. "I hope we do. I really do. We are the cutest couple, obviously."
"I wouldn't get your hopes up, usually it's a senior couple who gets it."
"Well, I'm not giving up hope. Everyone knows we're perfect together, so..."
Max was barely listening to her prattle on. But Johnny had caught her eye. She looked away quickly, and pulled Max on.
"God, Max, can you just stop?"
"Am I really the one that needs to stop?"
"What do you expect from me, to be standing by your side all night and never talking to anyone else? Seriously, Max. I can talk to other people. That's what I was doing. Talking. I don't see why you can't trust me."
Her heart was pounding. She'd been around the back of a column with Johnny. She'd known it was risky, but she couldn't help it. Not that anything had happened. Johnny had refused, saying it was "wrong" or whatever. She couldn't believe he was still saying it.
Every time she was around him, she wanted more and more to just end it with Max and find a way to be with Johnny.
Max shook his head and bit the inside of his lip. Becca knew when he was really mad. And he was getting there.
"This is so embarrassing, to be arguing outside the dance." Becca sighed. She didn't even care anymore.
"You know what you're doing, Becca."
She stared at him. "What does that even mean? Ugh, I'm not going to sit here and try to figure out riddles."
"I realize you're flirtatious. You flit around the party like the social butterfly you long to be so badly, charming everyone left and right. All I'm asking is that you stay away from Johnny, seeing as he's my best friend, and that with other people you just keep your hands to yourself. You always take it too far."
Becca tightened her jaw with resolve. His words had scalded her. The "social butterfly" she "longed to be so badly"? Was he serious? How dare he imply that she's just some kind of desperate, friendless fool?
There was a pang in her chest as she hoped it was only Max who saw her that way.
"I do not 'always take it too far.'" She repeated his words in a nasty tone. "And don't suggest that I'm just some kind of jackass around Johnny. He flirts with me just as much as I do with him. God, it's not like he just wishes I would back off him."
She couldn't bear the thought of Johnny hating when she was all over him. Max didn't know what Johnny said when they were alone. And she couldn't tell him.
"Are you serious? It's just not okay to flirt with everyone around you all the time."
"You're so annoying. Just an insecure little boy."
He didn't freak out. He didn't yell back. He just looked at her, and laughed.
Panic rose quickly in her chest. He couldn't break up with her. She couldn't let him. They were about to win king and queen. Maybe later she could end things, but not right now. Not right now.
"Something has to change." His voice was emotionless.
"Max! Max, please!" She couldn't get herself to cry, but she was really trying. She took his hand. He tried to pull it away, but she wouldn't let him. "Look at me."
She yanked his arm and gazed sweetly at him, working in as much worry and desperation as she could into her blue eyes. Time for the last resort.
She'd have to phrase it just right. "But...I mean, I lost my virginity to you...and now you're just..." She looked as emotional as she could.
He froze.
On the inside, she smiled. Bingo. Yeah, she'd told him she wasn't a virgin, just in case this sort of moment arose.
He sighed, and looked out to the great hall, clearly trying to decide what to do or think. "You said I wasn't your first."
"I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Shit!"
"Is that true?"
She paused. "Yes, it's true."
Max clearly didn't know how to react. After a moment, he said, "Why would you tell me I wasn't?"
"Because I didn't want you to stay with me because you felt guilty or anything." In fact, she was one hundred percent sure that was why he'd stayed with her anyway. Lucky her that he wasn't usually the type to get drunk and sleep with the new girl everyone else wanted already.
"I wouldn't. I liked you."
"Liked."
He breathed in deeply. "Like. But you're acting different lately. I don't know if this is who you are or what. Stop trying so hard, just act like yourself again."
How many times had her mother begged her to be herself again? It was fruitless. Useless. There was no point in begging Becca to stop or change or be someone nicer or easier to be around. This was Becca. And that was all.
The only person who'd ever thought she could really change, apart from her hopeful mother, was Dr. Winthrop. He told her it wasn't her fault, and that if she just took this, this and that medicine for the rest of her freaking life then her moods would level out.
Screw that. She wasn't going to do it.
Dr. Winthrop had tried to talk her through her "compulsive lying" and her "pathological desire" to do what she thought would make people like her, instead of what was right. You have to control yourself, he'd said. Or someone else will get hurt again.
She shivered and pushed the memory from her mind.
"Or maybe this is you," he added after a moment.
She was realizing now that she couldn't let him go. She liked being the golden couple. She liked being enviable, she always had. What would she do without him? No one else could give her what Max could.